


An Unconventional Gesture

by kudosmoon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy phase, Fighting, Fluff, Gift Giving, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Tsundere felix, as if there is another kind, fighting again, for either really, in that order, probably bisexual Sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kudosmoon/pseuds/kudosmoon
Summary: Felix has trouble expressing his emotions. Swords tend to say what he means better than he does.A commission-ish thing for lirpa_chan. Special thanks to some twitter user who rightfully thinks we should normalize sword gifting.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	An Unconventional Gesture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lirpa_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirpa_chan/gifts).



Sylvain only really goes to the training grounds to find Felix. Or like, when he absolutely has to, for a class or something. Today, it’s the former. Felix wants to see him. Which like, never happens.

  
Their friendship’s been weird this year. Felix’s always difficult now that he’s decided that everything has to be miserable and cynical all the time. It was when he started talking his edgy, war crimes BS in a tactics class that Sylvain officially decided he needed a break from him. As it happened, the lovely Professor Byleth provided exactly such an escape.

And Sylvain has never seen either Ingrid or Felix as angry at him as they were when he broke the news to them. Ingrid was explosive, as expected, (“Are you seriously leaving us so you can ogle the new professor?!” Kinda). Dimitri wasn’t angry - there was just this visible moment of hurt, and then he was all smiles.

Felix, though, had looked at him like he’d killed his cat. For a second, Sylvain had thought he saw the crybaby little boy that followed him and Dimitri everywhere once upon a time.

Then he’d crossed his arms and muttered, “Whatever.” And that had been the last time they’d spoken for a few moons.

That hadn’t been Sylvain’s doing, though! Like yeah, he’d been busy with classwork - it turned out that Byleth could be a slavedriver. It didn’t help that their house leader was all, ‘please push me harder, my teacher,’ with no consideration for anyone who might want to lie back and take it easy. 

But whenever he found some free time, and tried to spend it on his friends still in the Blue Lions, Felix was never there. Ingrid had forgiven him after two weeks of sulking - rationalizing that half of her life was forgiving him. Dimitri had insisted there was nothing to forgive, in that way that you almost believed. But Felix would just get up the second Sylvain came into the room and leave. Like, he would stop mid-sentence and just storm to the door.

Except when it was the training ground. Then he just ignored Sylvain, which was worse.

Then the Battle of the Eagle and Lion had come. Sylvain and Felix had finally met on the battlefield, and holy shit. How had Sylvain been the one on the horse, but Felix the one who had the momentum? How had Sylvain had Caspar and Linhardt backing him, but Felix was the one fighting like he had an army of demons coming up behind him?

The last thing that Sylvain remembers from the battle is being pulled from his horse and punched in the face. Then black.

When he’d come to, Sylvain had come to a few conclusions: this, apparently was just what time with Felix was going to be like now. Not just emotionally distant, emotionally on another continent. Not just annoyed, hateful. Angry.

All he’d done was change houses!

And then Felix did that too!

Apparently, Felix had done so well in the Battle of Eagle and Lion (even though the Black Eagles had brought him down in the end) that Professor Byleth had gone up to him after the fight and basically begged him to join. And apparently, Felix wasn’t so blinded by his new and total hate for Sylvain that he couldn’t see a good deal when he had one. Like, what was Professor Hanneman gonna teach him about swordplay that Professor Byleth couldn’t?

And then she’d sat them at a desk together. Bitch.

Classes had become a contest: who could avoid looking at the other for longest? And the greater game: who was going to break and say something first?

Sylvain had had the advantage: what was he gonna say? ‘Damn man, you’ve got a hell of a left hook.’

Felix finally broke two weeks ago, muttering, “Come train with me after class.” Yes, sir.

He then proceeded to kick Sylvain’s ass, all the while giving commentary as to why he was kicking his ass, ‘Don’t move just to move. Watch where my sword’s going.’ ’You’ve got a spear and no shield. Why aren’t you on the attack?’ ‘Not like that, you idiot, you’re leaving yourself open!’

And like it honestly wasn’t fair. Somehow, Felix had gotten even _better_ after basically dismantling Sylvain a month prior.

Yet when the next day, Felix said, “Come train with me,” again, Sylvain went back. Because he is an idiot.

And an idiot he’s remained, because he’s kept getting his ass kicked and keeps going back to get it kicked. All of the ‘warrior’ students’ who pretend that combat is an art form are always going on about how you can tell things about people based on how they fight. And like, maybe there’s something to that because Sylvain could swear that Felix isn’t mad at him anymore.

That’s an unfair assessment: Felix is _always_ mad at Sylvain. That’s what makes them who they are. But like, Felix isn’t in a white hot rage over Sylvain anymore. Training feels like _training:_ like two guys trying to help each other get stronger. Not like one guy who _really_ wants to kill his childhood friend.

As that thought crosses his mind, Sylvain stops in his tracks. Maybe that’s Felix’s game: get him at ease, get him complacent. Then _bam!_ Sweep the leg and cut the throat. It’s the perfect crime.

Or not _perfect_ : he’ll probably get caught. But what good will that do Sylvain?

And out of nowhere, Sylvain can’t shake that thought. Each step toward the training ground makes him feel like a man heading to the gallows. And that’s stupid! This is just going to be normal training and will suck normally.

Yeah, but then why did Felix have that faint look of determination when he invited (ordered the presence of) Sylvain today?

Thunder rumbles in the distance, as if sharing in Sylvain’s foreboding. The rational part of him that knows that Felix isn’t going to kill him wonders if he’ll postpone for rain. It doesn’t seem like something Felix would do - Sylvain’s pretty sure that his personal training schedule is the same, rain or shine. There was actually a point in the early semester that he’d caught a cold from that stubbornness. More or less just after Sylvain’s transfer; before he’d recognized silent treatment for what it was. He’d tried to surprise Felix with the time-honored olive branch of soup.

Felix had taken the soup (with a huff that was part thanks, part ‘whatever,’ part sneeze) and gone about his regularly scheduled exercises in self-flagellation.

So a light sprinkle probably isn’t going to save Sylvain.

Sure enough, there’s Felix standing in the center of the arena, sword unsheathed, glaring at the sky. Honestly, if he keeps at it long enough, Sylvain won’t be surprised if the sky blinks first.   
Felix sighs heavily, and as if hearing Sylvain’s thought, immediately proves him wrong, shaking his head at the ground, “Figures.”

“Maybe postpone?” Sylvain offers. He’s surprised that Felix jumps a little. Maybe he’s getting stealthier, “Don’t you need like a rest day? Don’t wanna overtrain.”

“Sylvain,” Felix acknowledges. There’s something put on in his arrogant smirk. Like Felix is a cocky shit sometimes, but this is more like… like what he thinks he looks like when he’s being one, “You don’t need to worry about _my_ training schedule. I’ve had that planned out since before the academy.”

Sylvain grunts, puts on some depth and some nasal, “‘You, on the other hand, need to do better.’” 

It breaks that fake composure like a hammer on glass, “Shut up! I don’t sound like that.”

Which makes Sylvain want to not shut up, because he _does_ sound like that, “‘Stop teasing me, Sylvain! How am I supposed to brood when you’re teasing me?’”

Felix makes some kind of hacking noise, throws up his hands in frustration, “You know what, forget it. This was a stupid idea anyway. Go… chase some skirts, or whatever.” 

He goes as if to storm off, but Sylvain catches his arm, hoping his smile is placating, “Hey. C’mon, Felix.” He catches himself before he apologizes for being Sylvain. He’s been trying not to do that as much lately, since he never means it anyway. 

It does leave them hanging, though. Felix glaring, waiting for why he should ‘c’mon.’ For want of a real answer, Sylvain winks, “I’m just trying to get to you, man. Use that. Kick my ass a little.”

Felix looks away, grumbling, “If you just got better, I wouldn’t… that’s not even really why I wanted to see you.”

Sylvain blinks, a threatening drop of rain lands on his head, “You, uh, didn’t want to train? At the training ground?” He grins, leans back, “Wait, am I being propositioned?”

Felix sputters, “I… wh-… fuck you, Sylvain!”

Sylvain desperately bites down the obvious comment, or Felix really will kill him.

His restraint gives Felix the time to cross to his bag and produce a long wooden box, about four feet in length. He handles the box with care until the very moment he gets to Sylvain, at which point he practically shoves it into his hands, “There.” Sylvain blinks. The case is heavy in his arms. Felix huffs and indiscriminately gestures at either him or it, “Open it.”

So Sylvain opens it, and Felix turns away. It is the only thing that it could be in a case shaped like this: a sword. But not just a sword, a specially commissioned piece. The blade inside is near pure silver, though if it’s something Felix dreamed up, it must not be - that wouldn’t be functional. It curves a little more than anything that Sylvain is used to, in a foreign style that he can’t place, but seems very Felix.

He likes the rapier-like hand guard the most: it’s a weighty thing, enough to cover both hands on the hilt as needed. But it juts out in the clear shape of a shield, two prongs on either side of the blade putting him in mind of the crest of Fraldarius.

He looks at Felix who looks like he could really use some assurance right about now. He smiles lightly to give it, “I mean, it’s beautiful, Felix.”

“It’s yours. Take it.” Felix says, at first clipped, and then quickly. It takes Sylvain a second to notice that he’s blushing, “I didn’t know what you’d want so I just got something I’d like. I was gonna make it look like the crest of Gautier, but I remembered that you…” he shakes his head, “Forget it. Never mind.”

Actually, Sylvain can’t do that. Felix is a shade of red that it normally takes a particularly thorough needling to get to. He’s looking everywhere except at Sylvain, and he just said that he was giving him the most beautiful sword he’s ever seen in his life, which for Felix is the closest he probably gets to a…

Oh wow, Sylvain’s blushing too. He could be misinterpreting this. “Then why the crest of…?”

He trails off, but Felix provides for him, “Because I want to… to think that I’m there with you. Protecting you in… some capacity.” Felix finally meets Sylvain’s eyes, and he looks like he might cry from embarrassment, “And I want stay by your side.”

It… should change things. He should see Felix a little differently now. But he doesn’t, does he? This just…

Well it makes more sense than a world where Felix hated him did.

For a little while he isn’t sure what to say, but he needs to say something because Felix is going to have a panic attack otherwise, “How long have you… uh…?”

“Since before the academy.” Felix says, vomiting answers that Sylvain isn’t sure match his questions, “I was going to give it to you earlier on, but then you changed houses, and I was just so… so mad that you left and…”

Sylvain finds that he could listen to Felix stammer like this all day. It’s nice having him finally not have a snappy comeback or mean quip. But he has mercy on him. 

That, and in an unexpected turn of events, Sylvain really wants to kiss Felix right about now.

So he does. Hard. Felix makes some kind of noise, and for a horrible second Sylvain is sure that he’s just gone down the most impossible series of misunderstandings ever. But then Felix is kissing back, and his hands are at Sylvain’s sides, absolutely unsure of what to do. And Sylvain realizes that he’s likely just given Felix his first kiss. Or is that ego talking?

Who cares? More please! At first he thinks he’s going to slam him up against a pillar or something, but they’re further from any of those than he’d thought, and Felix is a little more sturdily built than he’s used to - they stumble together and almost fall.

Felix is a bitey kisser, which like of _course_ he is. Sylvain responds in kind, because he’s versatile in what kind of kisser he is and because damn it, kissing is _his_ game. He pulls at his hair (Felix makes a fun gasp as his head is forced up) and bites down hard on his pulse. Felix’s arms wrap around him, and he moans wordlessly.

Sylvain smirks at him, nipping lightly, “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked that.”

Felix growls, “Shut up, Sylvain.”

“No, of course not…” he kisses along Felix’s jawline, and really this isn’t fair. Like their relative experience just doesn’t compare at all. Lucky Sylvain, “Because Felix doesn’t like _anything_. Or _anyone_ …” He gives a coy little smirk, just short of Felix’s lips, “I mean, except-”

And Felix cuts him off with another kiss. It’s more ‘shut up shut up shut up’ than sexy. Which Sylvain gets. Too fast? Maybe. Felix… doesn’t shut off. He’s still there, holding Sylvain, even when he breaks the kiss. 

Sylvain has been here enough to know that Felix needs time. You’d think that however long he’d spent pining away would have been time enough.

He wishes he could stop thinking about whatever this is in terms of past… _adventures_.

Because, he realizes, he doesn’t want this to amount to just another name on a list.

“Felix,” being genuine tastes weird, “As long as ‘by my side’ is where _you_ want to be, it’s where I want you.”

“If you tell me you love me right now, I’ll hit you,” Felix warns, knee jerk but admittedly fair, “You don’t.”

It feels like Sylvain could argue with that. But it also feels like it might be true. Only way to find out is to keep at it, right?

He runs a hand through Felix’s hair. It needs a wash - it’s more used to being sweaty and gross than not. It’s different, “So… what happens now?”

“You pick up that sword and fight me,” Felix says, and it doesn’t fit him thumbing absently at Sylvain’s back at all.

Sylvain grins, “I mean, if you need a release, I can think of a better one…”

Felix backs off then, and Sylvain wants to kick himself. Then he cocks his head to the side, smirks, “When you win.”

Sylvain puts more into their practice than he ever has before. He still loses. Definitively. But there will be other opportunities: if he and Felix have their say, they’ll have forever.


End file.
